The Remembered


6 Months Later...

Dear Diary,

So...I've been going to psychotherapy. Yeah, psycho-therapy. Maybe I am psychotic, I mean I have no one that loves me anymore. My mother and father is dead. I have no one to love. Except for Emerson, he hardly comes out of his room, and school means nothing to him. We're still living in the same house only our guardianship is left with our Aunt Iris. She's my Mom's oldest and only sibling. Between my mother and her, both are astonishingly divergent from one another.Emerson and I, have not any remaining family left, so i better be exceptionally nice to her. My father was an only child, and his parents, my grandparents were wonderful people. Not that I ever got the chance to spend time with them. I never grew a relationship or a loving connection between them, so when both unexpectedly passed away, I never mourned. Similar circumstances on my mother's side as well, except for having 2 daughters, well one now.

I was shockingly surprised at how quickly she dropped everything, to come and take care of us. She rarely came to visit, but I know she'd do anything for family, and I'm counting on that. She even assembled a beautiful funeral for her sister and brother-in-law. I thought the entire town came to the funeral by the looks of it. She has some flaws to her, ever since some random people found me and Emerson passed out on the side of Lake Peystood. They had found us when a car had stopped after seeing us crash into the lake and Emerson and I emerging from the water, I had already passed out by then to remember what happened after that, aunt Iris told me of Emerson's screams, eventually had caught attention of ongoing cars. Then they took us to the hospital. I had suffered from hypothermia, bruises from pounding on the door, cuts and a mild concussion.

Anyways, I'm suppose to pour my thoughts and feelings into this plain, blue book. It's a journal used to record how I feel. I guess, it's kind of working. Aunt Iris scheduled 2 appointments a week for Emerson and I. Emerson went with me for the first 2, by the third and fourth he'd already been done with it. He started using drugs and I told him to find a better way of coping with mom and dad, but he's hurt and if I keep on nagging him, he'll lash out even more. I couldn't handle if anything happened to him, I'll have no one close to me.

Lily and Madelyn have texted and called me profusely, except I ignore them. I know they don't expect me to make a full recovery quickly, but I need isolation. I enjoy going to the cemetery, in fact I'm writing next to my mother and fathers headstones. I feel my parents presence there. It's the one place I feel most at home. And I'll never get sick of that.

- Aislin 3

I jammed my journal, pen and water bottle into my silk pink nap sack and stood up and dusted my black skinny jeans off. I said my goodbyes for today to my parents and started down the beaten path back to the front entrance of the WestFord Cemetery. I gazed out to see beautiful flower wreaths, and single red roses on the base of many headstones.

It was an exquisite day. The sun shone brightly over the pellucid azure sky. Where the sun's ray sparkled like an ocean of diamonds. The air was warmly cool, and birds sung overhead.

I turned into Valley Road and identified my house. The only house on the end of the street. I wondered why it was lonesome. Unlike any other house before it, was petite compared to mine. The house was very large and extremely old. It contained the same building structure from when the founders of the town had built. At the time of our house being reconstructed, my grandmother told me the workers tried to salvage what they could of the original house and the wooden door was one of the many original structures they used. Ancient bricks sheathed my home from many storms and heavy rainfall. The grass was green as my fathers eyes, and sparkled in the sun because the sprinkler was on. Droplets of crystal was held at the tip of the grass.

I walked past, and up the 7 steps and on to the grand patio. I inserted the key in the key-slot of the wooden door and turned. The door opened and I entered. I walked along the straight middle path of wood floors which eventually led to the kitchen, I walked toward the kitchen and had 2 living rooms flanked by my side. I washed my hands and dried them. Opened the fridge and took out a pitcher out lemonade, pouring a glass and putting back the pitcher. As I closed the fridge door, I gasped and dropped the glass of lemonade.


The glass plummeted and shattered into the wood floor, breaking into millions of pieces...